


“Little old lady on the floor below”

by Mischievous_Misfit



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Headcanon, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Mentions of Nanny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2020-10-20 22:51:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20683250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mischievous_Misfit/pseuds/Mischievous_Misfit
Summary: "I headcanon that he helps the little old lady downstairs with her groceries and the like but that if anyone asks about it he just lies.She knows he's not human and removes all the religious stuff from her house to make him more comfortable. It isn't until she says something about having to hide her garlic away that he realizes she thinks he's a vampire."This is fic based off of @KillHitlerAgain headcanon on tumblr. I saw it and just knew I had to write it out. Hope you enjoy!UPDATE: now a new chapter with Aziraphale meeting the little old lady!!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KillHitlerAgain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KillHitlerAgain/gifts).

“Ta, luv. Just put the groceries over on the table, will you? What’d I’d do without you, who knows!” the little old lady’s face is bright with a smile as she opens the door for Crowley, who struts into her flat, arms full of paper bags and makes his way towards her kitchen- a path well known by now. 

It wasn’t anything new for Crowley, ever since making an acquaintance with her when he came back to his apartment one late afternoon. She had been coming back from the shops and made a very surprised noise when he roared up in his Bentley, almost making her drop her bags. She had never really seen the new neighbor out in day light before and hadn’t ever had the chance to talk to him.

She sure made up for that, going off about his car, how lovely taste he has- that caught Crowley’s attention quick, his pride always his weakness. She went on about how her past husband was a car fanatic and his favorite was always the VW Beetles- for the smooth ride down narrow roads. And the Bentley- for style obviously.

After a bit more chatting back and fourth, the little old lady, who was from downstairs- as she introduced herself, offered Crowley tea. He agreed, only if he could help her current load. (Once in awhile the demon would find a soft spot for someone, always denying it nonetheless. As he did with Warlock when Aziraphale complemented how well Crowley was with children.) Crowley then pushed himself off his Bentley where he had been leaning and followed her into the building.

The first couple of visits were relatively the same, around 4:30 the little old lady would be back from shopping and Crowley would help her bring in the groceries, pop in for tea- which consist of sour lemonade and crumpets, which Crowley gladly accepted the former rather than the latter.

They would discuss many things, varying from cars, their day and passing stories. Given how Crowley acted around her Bible at the front and her various decorative crosses around the flat, the glimpse of sharper than normal canines, dark clothes- which wouldn’t have struck strange if it had not been 37 C lately. And of course his lack of taking off his shades, even when he was out of the sun. She quickly took it upon herself to assume him not....of this world.

Throughout the multiple times he would come over, Crowley would notice the absents of former decorations he had seen. In replace of them were pictures of flowers and meaningful words stitched into fabric and framed unto the wall. 

It was humorous to him, how nonchalant the little old lady from downstairs was, reminding him of how when Warlock was younger and took his glasses off one day and said “Kitty!” at the sight of his yellow eyes. 

Funny little things, humans.

“S’nothing mum.” Crowley says and places the bags down with a grin. He moves out of the little old lady‘s way as she goes through the bags and hands him items to put on the counter while she does the similar with the cold things into the refrigerator.

Crowley listens with amusement as she goes about chatting, “-And would you know, the telly goes right out in the middle of Rose and Blanche having a wonderful tiff! Third time this week the telly's done that. Brassed off I am” she huffs out, “ Called the repair man again, I did, told me it must be the wires. Bloomin’ tells me that like it means something!”

“Tsk, sounds like a daft one.” Crowley hums, “ What company was it?” he asks, a cheeky grin on his face. The little old lady putters about, her face in the refrigerator putting away the milk when she says, “Oh those Telecare blokes, no good at caring though!” 

Crowley gives out an “Ah,” sound and makes a mental note for some devious mischief to be done to them later. He wonders if the rats would be available.

“Mum? Where d’you want the potatoes?” he has the odd looking vegetables in his hand and Crowley takes a look at the bowls of assorted veggies and herbs the little old lady has. He sees that one of the bowls are half full.

“I’ll put them in with the garlic, yeah? You can move them later if you wa-”

Crowley didn’t even get to finish his sentence as he hears a clutter noise behind him and feels hands grab his arms and move him away from the counter, as if it was fire.

“Shift yourself, luv!” her voice is urgent and she gathers the garlic in one fell swoop, opens a drawer, throws them into it and closes it shut. Crowley is beyond confused as the little old lady wipes her brow and gives him a weary smile.

“I needn’t you be gagging and fleeing away, now can I? So sorry, my old mind completely forgot to hide them this time. How do you feel? You didn't get too close did you? How many fingers am I holding?”

The questions fire out as she fusses over Crowley, searching over him for any signs of distress. He blinks. “What in-? No, I mean yes! Oh hell..” he rubs his hand down his face, “Ngk, I feel fine! But tell me, what was that about?” 

“Well. I’ve figured it all out, you know. Your looks, your behavior, you’re very bad at hiding it, luv. All the obvious signs and such. But don’t worry, it doesn't frighten me a bit! Known you for long and you could never harm me.” 

Crowley bites back a exasperated sigh, “Right, fat lot of good that is, but what does that have to do with the garlic?”

She stops her fidgeting around Crowley and stares at him quite dumbly.

“You are a vampire, aren't you?”

-Crowley is halfway on the floor, laughing too hard to even answer her properly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are so very welcomed! ^8^
> 
> Also, quick add here, the person who thought of this headcanon just posted their own version of it! Go check it out  
https://archiveofourown.org/works/20718884


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First off, thank you SO much for all the wonderful feedback I've been getting! I honestly never thought so many people would read this, let alone want a second chapter with Aziraphale to meet the little old lady. You guys are just so awesome~ I hope this serves well, please let me know of any mistakes- I don't have a beta so these are all me.
> 
> This is a really long one to make up for how long it took me to write this XD I’ve been so busy with other projects but I’m so glad that I finally go it done! Enjoy!!! I’m also posting this on my phone at midnight so I’ll look over it and clean it up more on my laptop when I get the chance

"What do you think of these, Angel?" Crowley holds up his hands in front of him, a pair of brown leather driving gloves worn on them as he wiggles his fingers. "S'not bad, eh?" Aziraphale gives the small garment an appraising look. "Suits you well, dear." he says, a small smile on his face. Crowley seems satisfied with that response as he turns to the shop keeper to pay. 

Receiving his newly obtained gloves in a bag, he leaves the building with Aziraphale and continues their day out in town, leaning against the harsh winds that greet them. The forecast had shown for a break in the oncoming snow storm, leaving a small window open for people to gather more supplies, shovel their walk way if they so wished, or in these two celestial beings cases, go out and shop.

~

Earlier that day, while having mid-morning tea, Aziraphale brought up an idea. "Say, Crowley," Aziraphale started, breaking the demon out of his zoning gaze towards said angel who was enjoying his fresh cup of jasmine tea and orange seasoned scone, "Would you mind terribly if we went for an outing today?" he took a bite of scone before he carried on. "I've heard that this is going to be one of the last days that going out-doors won't be so hazardous for a very long time."

Crowley raised an eyebrow. What could be better than having an excuse to stay in, where it was nice and warm, not having to be bothered by any customers or by anyone in general. Sounds like the ideal dream for both of them.

The demon went to bring this fact up when he noticed for the first time that Aziraphale's foot was tapping in the most peculiar way, the movements jerky as if he was trying to hold it back. 

Realization dawned on him in seconds. "Feeling a bit cooped up, are we?" Crowely chuckled out, smirk growing evermore from Aziraphale's annoyed face. "Why, yes! It's very difficult not to, I'll have you know, with all this snow coming down and piling up. It's been two weeks since we've been able to step foot outside and not come back covered head to toe with that dratted snow, two weeks!" Aziraphale broke from his ranting to sip his tea, irritation clear in his eyes. "Making it almost unbearable to even go down the block." 

Crowley waved his hand dismissingly, "Of course, 'course Angel." he leaned back, pressing his palms together and turned his attention to the kitchen window. The wintery sight glistened in the morning sun, the cold fogging up at the corners of the glass frame from the opposite temperature in the kitchen they were sitting in. Hm, he had a point. They were staying low- with only the minimum amount of miracles, so traveling to exotic areas during the cruel winter was out of the question. 

"Well?"

Aziraphale's eyes lifted from his cup to stare at Crowley, who was across him, notoriously sprawled on his chair. "Pardon?"

Crowley heaved himself upright with a sigh, now eye to eye with Aziraphale and raised an eyebrow at him, giving him a knowing look. "Well," Crowley reached out and gently took the 18th century style tea cup out of Aziraphale's oddly warm hands, setting it down on the table before continuing, "What do you have planned? Won't do us any good sitting here."

Blue eyes quickly sparkled with delight. "Truly? Oh my dear, just marvelous!" Aziraphale immediately rose up, startling the other with his sudden movement, and hurried to clean off the table of the plate of biscuits and the cups of tea- Crowley's was barely touched, as always, and placed them over near the stove where the still warm kettle sat.

Aziraphale bustled around some more, chatting away about what he had in mind for the day while doing so, a happy glow surrounded him while Crowley quietly listened from his seat, pleased at the sight of his angel excited and gleeful. Especially no help to this weather.

Crowley stretched up and out of his seat, pushing the chair back as it made an undignified scrape sound as Aziraphale continued on with his one sided conversation, so lost in his own words he didn't even flinch to the annoying sound. Crowley sauntered up behind Aziraphale, who was currently closing the blinds and shutting off the lights, and threw his arms around his shoulders, leaning heavily against him, Aziraphale barely budging with the added weight.

"-and then back to the bookshop for a nightcap." Aziraphale's voice brought Crowley's attention out of autopilot. "What do you think, dear?" The demon moved his head to rest his chin on Aziraphale's right shoulder and started to ponder out loud. 

"So a quick swing around the shops and a drive in this "winter wonderland" is what I've gathered from your talk then, Angel?"

Aziraphale nodded, moving his hand on top of Crowley's head and giving him an affectionate pat, practically hearing the smile from him as he hummed with a pleased tone at the actions of Aziraphale. 

Crowley eventually untangled himself from Aziraphale, linking hands with him instead as he was tugged through the kitchen and towards the front entrance, where the coat rack stood. Breaking away from the grasp of Crowley- and bluntly ignoring how loudly he voiced his displeasure of “the lack of touch from an Angel”, Aziraphale felt a smile grow on his face as he grabbed his coat and unceremoniously threw the demon his, hearing a muffled noise of surprise. Oh how much he loved to be just a little cheeky at times.

Successfully bundled up, Aziraphale turned to Crowley, wearing a warm looking hat and an equally warm looking smile. Crowley had been fumbling with his coat buttons when Aziraphale cleared his throat.

He looked up and immediately wished he hadn’t. “For my sake, Angel. Really? It looks like a great tartan monster had just taken a shit on you.” He pulled his charcoal winter coat closer to his body and kept hold of it and flipped his collar up, as if he was afraid the horrid, unfashionable clothes Aziraphale was wearing was going to infect him. 

Aziraphale’s smile turned to a pout. It was true, in a way, from head to toe his body was in someway covered in the light colored pattern. Save for his boots but Crowley had a suspicion that he would even go as far as tartan socks. His hat, scarf and coat did not escape the torture.

“Poppycock, you just have a one sided mind, that’s all. Tartan is stylish, all seasons, every seasons.” he sniffed, nose high up and an unamused glint in his eyes as he stared down at Crowley, well, as much as he could.

“Ngk, just, change the coat? Even if you think it’s an attempt at fashion, it’s still too much.” Taking off his glasses, the demon gave his best effort for saying “please” with his eyes, soon enough, making Aziraphale crack and with a half-heartily sigh, took off his coat and received another from the back of the hanger.

He patted down the lapels and brushed off the shoulders of his now solid color tan winter coat. “Better?” Crowley gave a dazzling smile that had Aziraphale softer than butter. He could never really stay mad at him, now could he? “Oh stop that you, let’s be off. We’re already losing daylight.”

“But of course, lead the way, Angel.” 

~

Aziraphale snuggles closer to Crowley as the biting cold grows on, their arms intertwined and despite the weather, a warm aura hangs from them. Crowley has small bags in his unused hand from the various shops they had visited, while Aziraphale held unto a bag from the vintage bakery down the block. Eclairs, Bake well tarts and other goods that wouldn’t spoil in the car they’re heading to. The cold and perhaps a little miracle would make sure of that.

“This was lovely my dear, absolutely lovely.” Crowley preens at the obvious sound of happiness in Aziraphale’s voice. He knows for a fact that this afternoon has gone far more than well and knew even better that his angel felt that way too. 

“We still have that ride, not too worn down, are you?” Crowley asks, opening the car door for Aziraphale, who gives a polite “Thank you.” And waits patiently for Crowley to come back around and into the car before he gives his response.

“Not even close.” There’s a playful twinkle in his eyes that Crowley just catches, almost dropping the keys when Aziraphale gives his shoulder the light touch and a chaste kiss on the cheek..

Crowley mumbles, distractingly throwing the bags in the back seat. “Oh, good good, yes, good that.” If anyone would ask, the creeping red on his face would be blamed on the cold.

The purring of the engine makes itself know and the Bentley gives a slight jostle of movement- Crowley’s foot not even close to the pedal, with roll of his eyes, Crowley finally places the vehicle in gear and takes off with a scoff. 

“Temperamental thing, I should paint you green. Suits your envy.” 

Aziraphale merely laughs at that, high with the sound of joy and ending in a tinkle of chuckles. Crowley’s chest fills with what can only be called, adoration. 

Traffic wasn’t heavy- as it’s the late afternoon and for the fact that never bothered the reckless demon any, but for the safety of his passenger and more so for his own arm- which Aziraphale took a liking to crushing it with his iron grip when he drove, Crowley obeys the speed a little more and watches for heavily icy patches.

By chance, Crowley glances at the clock and sees the time. He gives a quiet hum and squints his eyes in thought. Would she....in this weather? His apartment was right on the way to their designated road and with a few twist and turns, they would be there in no time.

“Angel?”

Aziraphale turns away slightly from the radio he was fiddling with, no matter how many Christmas cassettes he tried, Queen kept on its reputation. “Yes, my dear?” 

Radio Ga Ga plays in the background, the snow comes down unto the windshield only in flurries as darkness of night slowly makes its way into the sky.

“Mind if we make a stop at my place? Just, gotta check on somethin’. Won’t take long.” Halfway through talking, Crowley realizes how very screwed he would be if Aziraphale simply asked ‘why?’ He and his pride would be on the line.

Luckily, Aziraphale didn’t do such a thing. “Certainly. And then we’ll head over to the time square, see the lights as we drive by, mhm?”

Crowley lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Thank someone. “Yea, sounds nice.” Aziraphale seems happy with that agreement and goes back to fiddling with the radio.

It wasn’t long before the Bentley pulls up to the corner of the block from his apartment, driving in through the back way and parking just shy of the end of the sidewalk. Crowley pulls his scarf tighter around his neck and grabs the car handle.

“I’ll be back in two ticks at most.” he says over his shoulder before rushing out into the brisk cold, some stray flurries rushing into the car. Moments pass as Aziraphale gives up on the radio after ‘Wham! Last Christmas’ changed to ‘Fat Bottomed Girls’, much to his distaste and clicked the regrettable catchy song off. He stares out of the window, watching as his breathe fogs up the glass, tapping at the bakery bag on his lap.

His on his fifth smily face drawing when he starts to wonder what’s keeping Crowley. Then, just as the saying goes, speak of the devil Crowley appeared around the bend, his figure ridged and curt.

Aziraphale’s grins delightfully then slowly turns confused as Crowley makes his way towards the passenger side instead of the drivers. He doesn’t have time to blink when he is soon greeted with a breeze of cool air and a gruff, “C’mon.” from Crowley, who again holds the door for him.

“Crowley! Are we going up to yours? Why?” The various questions are almost lost in the sudden gust of wind as Aziraphale scrabbles out of the Bentley with his bag, Crowley taking car of the vehicle behind him and then trudging back up to Aziraphale where he stood.

“Somethin’ of the bloody sorts.” he curses out, a scowl burnt on his face as he links arms with the angel like before and tows him up to the front of the building, Aziraphale lost in wonder of what could possibly get the red head in such a ruffle.

The inside of the building gave them a warm embrace and felt relaxing, but Crowley was far from that. He was practically shooting daggers at the floor, his head down and grumbling all the way up the stairs and to the first floor, the one right under his own flat.

Aziraphale lets himself be led to the third door on the right and watches Crowley give the door a solid knock- almost a punch if Aziraphale had known better, and they are greeted by a cheery voice that yells through the door to come in.

Crowley swings the door open with gusto and stomps in, Aziraphale trailing behind him, his eyes wander about the hallway they walk through, taking in the homey decor of it- winter scenes played out in many small paintings, hand knitted flowers in frames, a tasteful garland wrapped around the wall and traveling into the living room they had just entered.

“Well, ‘bout time luv! Thought I had to waddle down there myself to get ya. Don’t you know better than to keep little ol’ me waiting?”

Aziraphale drags his attention away from the multiple Christmas lights and wreaths on the walls and slides over to the side of Crowley, who was currently huffing and crossing his arms like a young child while facing the kitchen area.

“He’s here, you’ve seen him, s’all grand, you’ve got your groceries,” he pauses, “Which might I add you looked like an Eskimo with all those layers, surprised you could even see, let alone get across the street, trying to push “the Lord’s luck” are we, Mum?”

The owner of the voice and the name belongs to a short, joyful looking woman, who threw her head back and barked out a laugh, putting down the cups she had taken out from the cupboard.

“Oh come now, He even knows I was running low on eggs. What a shame of a home if it don’t have eggs, hm? How else am I to make or bake or cook?” she shakes her head sorrowfully, pouring out a steaming brown liquid from the kettle into the cups and bringing them over to the couple. “Coffee?”

Aziraphale was quite flabbergasted. Who was this women? How did Crowley know her? “Ah, yes, uh most gracious of you, Madam.” Thank God his manners were still intact while his brain was still running with questions.

“Oooooh, nice and proper one he is! You’re very welcome darling,” she nudges Crowley with a bony little elbow that almost made him spill his coffee, “Keep your talons on this one, you hear?

Crowley shoots her a glare and busies himself with the cup, trying to figure out how to get out of this one. His feet shuffle nervously, clearing wanting to get away and avoid any embarrassment.

The little old lady from downstairs beams at the both of them, content shines on her face as she motions over to her lilac printed couch. “Join me for a sit while we talk, I’m sure you two must be dead on your feet from the day you’ve had.”

Aziraphale follows first while Crowley drags behind. The little old lady sighs when she sees this. “Honestly, luv, were you raised in a barn? Introduces us before your poor friend thinks I’m trapping you here against your will.” 

Crowley tries his best not to gripe out, “You are.” Aziraphale can plainly see as he sips from his own cup, the taste of coffee being chased by cinnamon. How peculiar.

“Right, s’pose so. Aziraphale,” he flippantly waves towards the angel beside him, “Mum,” and then to the woman in front of him, “Mum,” back again, “Aziraphale.” and finishes with a rushed, “Mum’s my neighbor downstairs, meet up every so often and yada yada yada. Aziraphale is my-“ he pauses slightly, trying to choose his next words carefully,

“Partner?” Aziraphale supplies with a helpful tone.

Crowley vigorously nods, “Yes, that. Partner. Been that for oh, last thousand years?” he then swoops down for a quick sip of coffee, adding on, “And uh, ‘is an angel.”

Aziraphale almost spat out his tea. “C-c-crowley!“ he coughs out, eyes watering, barely believing how he just said that. And so openly too! Aziraphale politely keeps cough into his arm before he is handed a handkerchief from the woman in front of him, who offers him an apologetic smile.

“Oh don’t fret darling, my daft old self thought he was a vampire before he told me everything!” she chuckles out, smacking Aziraphale square on the back.

“Is that so?” 

Crowley wonders what would be better, sinking into the floor from a splash of holy water or dashing out the window and falling into the snow.

“And how is that?”

Maybe a touch of a cross? A good, heavy, iron one. That should do it. Where did she hide them again?

“Oh let me tell you, it’s such a great story. Helps a load that I’m not to shabby with telling them, mind you.” the mischievous glint in the little old lady’s eyes was enough to keep Aziraphale enraptured at the very beginning.

Crowley listens on, head in his hands and Aziraphale next to him on the couch, feeling when he would try to hide his laughter or when he would turn his head to look at Crowley. The unfortunate demon could only take so much.

“-and that’s what he was doing just now, when they then told me you were waiting for him, oh! I almost smacked him with my wooden spoon for not bringing you up here right away and for apparently keeping me a secret.”

“Such a shame, I would say you’re quite the person, Madam.” Aziraphale says, a wide grin on his face and a groan from Crowley- who was still buried in his shame.

“Why thank you very much.” she huffs out proudly, stands up and takes the now empty cups into her hands. “I’ll be back in a mo.” and leaves them on the impossibly fluffy couch, with Crowley still refusing to look at Aziraphale.

Aziraphale clears his throat and shuffles closer to the sulking demon. “You know, even though you despise to admit it, you are somewhat of a good person. In my books and such.” 

Raising his head, Crowley makes dead eye contact with him and stares, racking his mind to come up with something, anything, to prove him wrong.

“Er, no because clearly I’m doing demonic work by....taking up her time! Yes that, being the evilest of evil and wasting her precious time.”

“Oh of course, truly dastardly of you my dear.”

Crowley swore he saw Aziraphale smirk as he said that, but the little old lady came back just then and shoved freshly filled cups into their hands. “Nice hot drink to compete against the terrible cold, wouldn’t you say?”

Aziraphale gives her a small smile, “I would.” Just then, he remembered his bag. “Oh! Would you like some eclairs? I’ve just got some and other little treats from the bakery down the road. Not sure if you’ve been. They have a piano?”

The woman claps her hands together with glee. “Oh yes! They have the best tarts and a dashing mural on the wall behind the counter. I go there at least every Wednesday.”

“For the fresh buns?”

“For the fresh buns!” 

Crowley watches with a growing enjoyment as the two of them chatter on about their interest with the vintage bakery, serving everyone some dessert, Crowley feels himself loosen up as he joins in the conversation every now and again.

It nice, he finally admits to himself. This is nice. The setting became perfect and the night grew on with more talk- Crowley changed the direction of the conversation at times whenever either Aziraphale or the little old lady veered to more humiliating topics. The night and crowd was merry, better than Crowley could ever think. 

Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea, he thinks as they soon pack up for the night, sleep creeping into all of them as yawns were passed around. It must’ve been close to midnight when they were done. In the middle of the visit, the little old lady had pulled out charades and the whole time of that was filled with snorts and happy laughter. Crowley has lost his glasses while trying to intimidate an elephant trumpeting, but couldn’t have cared less.

“I insist, you both must come back soon. This had been one of the best nights in my long life, though,” she breaks out in giggles, “I suppose I have nothing to complain about long lives compared to you blokes. Tell you that much!”

Aziraphale and Crowley join her, faces rosy from smiling all night- and perhaps help from the coffee drinks that turned to spiked eggnog. Goodnight and goodbyes were said and hugs were given as the two celestial beings made their way out the door.

“Thank you again, Madam.” she shakes her head with a slight grin and pulls him in for a great big hug- as much as her small body could muster up, and pulls Crowley in as well for one finally hug.

“Don’t be strangers now, goodnight!” The little old lady from downstairs waves them off, watching them fumble with their hands joined together and walking off to the stairs, heading up.

“That. Was. Stupendous.” Aziraphale says breathlessly, resting his head on Crowley’s shoulder while he opens the door to his flat. “Quite, hmh, quite a change from our plans but wonderfully changes.”

“Mum’s a real handful, surprised you withstood her for that long.” the smirk could be hear as they wander in his open flat, heading straight to the bed for some well needed rest. At least for Crowley. Though Aziraphale looked well ragged himself that he might even fall asleep.

“Welllll, I do have practice from you, don’t I, my dear boy?”

Crowley gives his best affronted look, but it comes across pouty and Aziraphale can’t help but ruffle his hair lovingly. Crowley heaves out a big sigh and flops backwards on the bed, sprawled and a more than tired look on him.

Aziraphale shuffles his and Crowley’s shoes off and plops down next to him, tugging him closer to the pillows and under the covers. “Budge over a bit,” he scolds, snapping his fingers downwards for them to be dawned now in pajamas. “Or you’ll be sent to the couch.”

Mumbles could only be heard from the half asleep demon, something about “Mean Angel” and “You wouldn’t.” Said angel just snuggled closer and turned the lights off with a twist of his wrist.

“Goodnight Crowley.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, first fic so advice is greatly appreciated. I hope I was consistent on past and present.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are so very welcomed! ^8^


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